Poltergeist at the Bridge
by Yvetta
Summary: Inspired by a real urban legend in my home town . . . our heroes rush off to save the day from an angry poltergeist. Complete I think!
1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Supernatural. I actually don't own much of anything. I'm pathetically poor.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is my first attempt at fan fiction ever. Please review to let me know if it's worth continuing or not. Or you can even give me ideas if you'd like. If you like it, tell me; if you don't, tell me. I'll hopefully get enough people review so I can average out the response and decide whether or not to keep writing.

Also, this is based on a real place but with new names and fictional characters. I really do live in a small town in Utah and there really is this supposedly haunted bridge in my town. It's funky, but true.

Oh, and I promise that this will get better; the first chapter is pretty dull. I generally try to write with a lot of action and plenty of violence, but I had to start somewhere, you know?

- - - - - - - - - -

Sam Winchester leaned back in his seat and tried to squirm into a more comfortable position. There is only so long a person can sit in a car before they ache all over, and he was at that point. He turned to his left, where his older but shorter brother, Dean, was driving. Dean looked completely at ease.

"Aren't you the least bit uncomfortable?" Sam finally asked.

"No, why?" Dean responded, risking a glance in Sam's direction before letting his gaze go back to the road in front of them.

"I'm going insane. I can't sleep and I can't get comfortable and there's nothing to do."

Dean grinned. "Well, you always were the odd Winchester. I think being on the road all the time is great."

"Yes, well, you're crazy. Can't we take a break? I just need to get out and stretch my legs."

The older Winchester rolled his eyes. "Fine. Next stop we'll pull over and let little Sammy walk around for a bit."

Sam glared at his brother before rubbing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. How it was possible for Dean to not be tired after driving for twelve hours straight was beyond him. The fact of the matter was, though, that whenever the two of them DID stop at a motel, Dean slept. He slept like a rock, too. But Sam couldn't sleep. When he wasn't being plagued by nightmares of Jess being murdered over his bed, he dreamed about what could be happening to his lost father or a shapeshifter that looked like his brother or a woman in white trying to rip his heart out or a swarm of killer insects or any number of horrific things. His brain wouldn't quit, even to let his body rest. As a result, he really felt like he was going crazy.

The Winchesters had recently received a call relating to their father's location, and were trying to get back to California to check out the information they had received. They were currently passing through Utah on their way, and Dean took an exit for a small, rural town called Karstown so Sam could get out and walk. They drove to a gas station and stopped.

"I'm going inside to get something to eat, since we stopped," Dean announced, hopping out and walking away quickly.

It was a chilly November morning – much colder outside than inside the car. Sam instinctively pulled his jacket closer to him as he got up, closed his door, and leaned back against the car. He could see his breath in little puffs of white as he stood. The cold air actually felt good after a while. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths.

At that moment, a group of six teenagers walked by, chatting excitedly. Some sounded thrilled and others sounded terrified, but they were loud. Sam caught part of their conversation as they passed.

" . . . But he doesn't remember how he got back!" one teen was saying. "One minute we're standing at the bridge, and the next minute he's back at home, with no memory of the last four hours!"

"Jake exaggerates, you know," another said. "I'll bet he just made up that story because he wanted us to be freaked out, too. I don't think the place is actually haunted."

"I don't know," a third put in. "I've known Jake for a long time and I've never seen him so scared."

Sam was now listening intently, his ears picking up on key words that he was so used to noting. A haunted spot? Maybe he could convince Dean to take a small break.

"Hey," he said to the group, sauntering forward with his hands in his pockets. "Did I hear you say something about the haunted bridge?"

The whole group stopped to look at him.

"Oh, you mean Kars Crossing?" one teen asked. "Jake Thompson just went down there this weekend and some weird stuff happened."

"What kind of weird stuff?" Sam asked nonchalantly.

"Oh, you know, the usual when it comes to the Crossing. Thick, disturbing fog followed by total loss of memory."

"I see," Sam said slowly.

"Say, who ARE you?" another of the group asked. "I don't think I recognize you."

"You don't," Sam replied. "My brother and I were passing through and decided to stop for a bit. We're on a road trip."

"Then why all the interest in Kars Crossing?"

"I like scaring myself, and sometimes the only way to do that is to visit a supposedly haunted area or check out local ghosts . . . that sort of thing."

"You should definitely check this place out, then," a girl piped up from the back of the group. "Even if you don't believe in the supernatural, it's still creepy."

"How do I get there from here?" Sam asked.

The teens gave him detailed directions before one voiced a warning. "Watch out, though," he said. "The cops hate it when kids go over there and they work hard to keep people out."

"Why?"

"Well, there have been accidents – strange ones. But the cops always blame it on kids trying to scare each other and going too far."

"You don't believe that, though," Same said, more as a statement than a question.

The kid shook his head. "Not at all. In fact, my brother was involved in something pretty awful over there. Just make sure you watch for cops."

"Thanks," Sam said, letting the group continue on their way as Dean came out of the convenience store with an armful of chips, candy bars, and drinks.

"That could probably be termed a heart attack waiting to happen," Sam said as he surveyed the food.

"The other thing about you, college boy," Dean responded, "is that you complain too much. This food is fantastic."

"That's not food, it's salted or sweetened plastic," Sam said, rolling his eyes as he got in the car. "At any rate, I think we should stay here for a while."

"Why? You can't convince yourself to sit in a car anymore?"

"Actually, I just talked to some locals who said there's a haunted place here. Strange stuff happens there, and kids sometimes get hurt or die when they go there."

"Every place has its own urban legend, Sammy," Dean said, dumping his snacks in the seat and starting the car. "We can't stop in every single city and try to solve their problems. Most of them are just a bunch of kids trying to scare each other."

"People have died, Dean," Sam insisted. "And while we definitely can't stop in every city, we're already in this one. Why don't we just take a look?"

Dean grinned again. "If you really can't stand driving for a while, just say so."

"I just think we should take a look. It sounds interesting."

"Fine," Dean said, shrugging. "It's not like I have anything better to do, anyway. Did you at least find out where this place is?"

Sam smiled as his brother gave in, and the two of them were soon off to the mysterious Kars Crossing, and yet another dangerous run-in with the supernatural.


	2. Chapter 2

DISCLAIMER: I STILL don't own Supernatural, in spite of my best efforts. And I'm STILL pathetically poor.

"This is ridiculous," Dean grumbled as the two brothers stood in pouring rain on the abandoned, rickety old bridge. The bridge, as it turned out, was actually a walking bridge and was wide enough for two people and only about ten feet long. A small stream trickled beneath the bridge, growing into a larger creek as the rain fell. The surrounding area was wooded, with trees blocking out any view of anything.

"We've only been here for two minutes, Dean," Sam snapped back. "We haven't given anything enough time to happen."

"I don't care. It's like 10 degrees out here AND it's raining and I'm completely miserable," he groused. He was holding his thin jacket over his head in a failed attempt to keep dry.

"Take one for the team," Sam returned. "I can't believe you get attacked by demons and ghosts and poltergeists and random other horrific things and you can't stand a little rain."

Dean snorted his disgust and turned away. It was around that time that the fog rolled in.

"See that?" Sam asked, excitement entering his voice.

"What?" his brother asked, still grumpy.

"The fog. It's coming, just like they said it would."

"Sam, it's pouring rain and freezing cold. Clouds get lower in this sort of weather. I thought college boy would know that."

"I DO know that. It's just that it's coming in so fast."

Actually, the fog had completely surrounded the two of them by that point. They could barely see each other. And when the rain stopped dead but they could still hear the sound of the rain in the trees around them, Dean had to confess that they might be experiencing something unusual.

"Okay, this is odd," he said. "At least it's not raining anymore."

Sam smirked. "You can say that again."

They could no longer see each other at all, standing merely a foot away. In fact, when Sam put his hand in front of his face, he couldn't see it. He was, for all intents and purposes, effectively blinded.

"Dean?" he asked. "Are you convinced yet?"

There was no answer. Sam swallowed but remained calm. After all, he faced things like this every day of his life. "Dean?" he called again.

He waited a few tense moments before getting angry rather than frightened. "Dean, that's not amusing in any way! Just answer me!"

When he still received no answer, Sam reached out to where he knew his brother was still standing. No rain was falling on him anymore, even though he could still hear the sounds of it around him. What he hadn't heard, though, was any movement from Dean's side of the bridge. No light footsteps, no heavy breathing, no nothing.

To his mounting horror, Sam's hand touched nothing. He moved forward tentatively and swished his arm around, trying desperately to feel his brother's jacket. But there was nothing.

"Dean?" he called again, louder this time. "Dean, where are you?"

He wanted to look around, but the thick fog made it completely impossible. He wasn't sure where to look for his brother, so he stayed on the bridge, waving his arms around as he frantically tried to reach Dean.

"Dean?" he shouted.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Dean hated rain. Well, he liked to look at it and run through it on occasion, but he hated to stand in it. Sam's idea of coming to look at this bridge was completely idiotic. He looked over at his brother.

"This is ridiculous," Dean grumbled.

"We've only been here for two minutes, Dean," the younger Winchester said back. "We haven't given anything enough time to happen."

"I don't care. It's like 10 degrees out here AND it's raining and I'm completely miserable," he groused. He was holding his thin jacket over his head in a failed attempt to keep dry.

"Take one for the team," Sam returned. "I can't believe you get attacked by demons and ghosts and poltergeists and random other horrific things and you can't stand a little rain."

Dean snorted and then looked at his surroundings again. He noticed the wisps of thick white clouds as they came toward him, but he didn't really care.

"See that?" Sam asked, excitement entering his voice.

"What?" his brother asked, still grumpy.

"The fog. It's coming, just like they said it would."

"Sam, it's pouring rain and freezing cold. Clouds get lower in this sort of weather. I thought college boy would know that."

"I DO know that. It's just that it's coming in so fast."

When he realized that the "clouds" were blocking out everything that was more than five feet away from the bridge, he raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, this is odd," he said. "At least it's not raining anymore."

Sam smirked. "You can say that again."

The fog continued to close in on the brothers, and finally Dean could no longer see his brother. He couldn't see anything. He could hear the rain, and he could hear Sam's breathing from right behind him.

It took too long for all of the information to sink in, Dean realized. Sam wasn't behind him. Sam was in front of him, unless he had somehow learned to teleport himself. Which meant only one thing: someone, or something, was standing right behind him.

In spite of knowing that couldn't see it through the thick fog, Dean turned around very slowly. Just as he expected, he could see nothing. But that wasn't what suddenly got his heart rate going. He could now feel warm puffs of air on his face as the person or thing in front of him exhaled. Dean opened his mouth to say something to Sam and suddenly blacked out without making a single noise.

- - - - - - - - -

Sam had finally decided to go back to the car for a flashlight. At least if he was searching for someone in this thick fog, he should have some sort of light. He took a few steps off the bridge and suddenly the rain started again. Shaking his head in disbelief, he took a few steps forward and then stopped. He was sure he and Dean had come from the other direction, and didn't really want to get lost trying to get back to the car. He walked back onto the bridge, expecting the rain to stop again. It didn't.

Now, completely confused, Sam walked off the other end of the bridge and took faltering steps forward. Once he reached the trees, the fog was thinner and he could see a few inches in front of his face. He tripped over countless branches and weeds as he tried to get out of the forest that surrounded the haunted area, sighing with relief as he spotted the black Impala ahead of him. He broke into a run as he neared the end of the trees and went to the car, hoping his brother had gone back and was no peacefully lying across one of the seats.

Dean wasn't there.

Sam opened the trunk and pulled out a flashlight. Retracing his steps to the crossing, he angrily realized he would no longer need the light. It appeared the fog had receded as soon as he had gone. He could see everything around the bridge very clearly, and Dean wasn't in the area. But he still had to look for his brother.

He dialed Dean's cell phone number with his own as he trudged up to the bridge to look. The phone rang out; no one answered. He stuffed his phone back into his pocket and wiped rain out of his face. It was only a few short minutes of standing on the bridge and turning in circles before the fog started to come again, and the rain stopped. Sam jumped off the bridge and back into the rain. He flipped on the flashlight to see through the gathering fog and ran into the trees on the other side of the bridge, calling his brother's name. There was no answer.

Sam searched for two hours before giving up. He had called Dean's cell phone a few more times, and he had gone over every inch of the bridge and forest. There was no one around. He went back to the car, wondering what he should do.

He checked the seats again, but his brother still hadn't returned. He put the flashlight back into the trunk and got into the car. He couldn't drive away to search for Dean because Dean had the keys. He had nowhere to go, so he just sat and stared as the rain hit the windshield. He had been sitting for 45 minutes and had almost fallen asleep when his cell phone rang, startling him so much he almost went through the window. He jerked it out of his pocket without looking at the caller ID.

"Yeah?" he said, sure it was Dean.

"Hi," an unfamiliar female voice said on the other end. "Is this Sammy?"

"That depends," Sam said. "Who is this?"

"My name is Krista Muller, and I hope you have a good explanation for this."

"Explanation for what?" Sam asked, thoroughly lost.

"You might have noticed that I'm using Dean Winchester's cell phone," she said.

"I hadn't checked, actually," Sam admitted.

"Well, I am using Dean Winchester's cell phone. I called half of the numbers in his contact list before someone told me to talk to you. I scrolled down, and had it dial you. I have a bit of a problem."

"Besides having my brother's cell phone?" Sam asked.

"Yes, besides that," the girl said. "I just found your brother unconscious on my couch."


	3. Chapter 3

DISCLAIMER: Supernatural is not mine. Not much belongs to me.

THANK YOU to my wonderful reviewers. You made my day so much better that I decided to post another chapter. Your comments are welcome!

"Is he okay?" Sam asked quickly.

"I think so," she answered. "I went in to take a shower and when I came out, he was there, lying on my couch. He looked really cold and really pale. And this is why I thought you might have an explanation."

"This may sound stupid, but where are you?"

"I'm in Karstown," she said. "Where did you think I was?"

"It's a perfectly natural question," he responded. "See, we were at Kars Crossing . . ."

"Say no more," she interrupted. "My friends have been out there many times to check out the local haunt. Just come get your brother and we'll call it good."

"I can't come to you," Sam said. "Dean has the keys to the car."

There was a pause on the phone. "I take it you're still at the bridge, then?" Krista asked.

"Yeah," Sam answered, looking around. "Unless I just disappeared like my brother did."

"I'll come get you," she said, ignoring his last remark. "Is it okay to leave your brother on the couch?"

"I have no idea," Sam said. "Do people generally stay in one place after something like this, or do they repeatedly disappear and show up somewhere else?"

"They generally just sleep for a few hours after something like this, but around here, anything is possible. The real problem is me trying to haul him to my car."

"You had better leave him there, then," Sam said quickly. "In fact, bring his keys down and I'll drive his car up to your place so I can pick him up."

"Sounds good," Krista answered, fishing the keys out of Dean's pocket. "I'll be there in five."

- - - - - - - - - - -

Sam found himself slightly jealous of his sleeping brother as he stepped through the door and found Dean on the couch, curled into a ball, looking very peaceful. Strangely enough, his clothes weren't wet. He was shivering, but Krista had covered him up with a blanket and turned the heat up in her house. And it was true that he was a little pale, but he looked little the worse for wear. And yet this would be yet another night during which Sam would get no sleep.

"There he is," Krista said, pointing at the older Winchester even though it was pretty obvious Sam had seen him already.

"Thanks," Sam said, walking quickly toward his brother. "I'll get him out of your hair."

"Where are you two going to go?" she asked, watching Sam unceremoniously throw Dean over his shoulder and grumble under the weight.

"A hotel, I think," Sam said. "I'm not leaving this place until I've been back there."

Krista rolled her eyes. "You're going back? After what it did?"

"It?" Sam repeated. Krista said nothing. "Look," he went on, "We don't know what it did.We don't know what's out there. Apparently, nobody does. And I'm not leaving until I find out." He turned to go.

"Wait," Krista interrupted. "You can stay here if you're sure you're not going."

Sam looked back. "I'm not sure how appropriate that is." He said this, knowing if Dean were in his position, he never would have hesitated to take a beautiful young woman up on the offer to stay at her house. Unfortunately, Dean was mysteriously unconscious at the moment.

"The nearest hotel is in Baldridge, thirty minutes away."

Sam sighed in frustration, pondering this new information.

"And I have a guest room," Krista added.

Taking a deep breath, Sam finally said, "Show me where the bed is so I can get him on it . . . He may be a little guy, but he's sure heavy."

"Little?" Krista asked with a grin. "He's definitely not little."

Sam shrugged, mirroring her grin. "Depends on your point of view, I guess."

The younger Winchester followed his new hostess down a hall and into a room on the left, where the only furniture was a bed and a dresser. There wasn't even a rug.

"It's a little sparse, but it's much cheaper and closer than a hotel," Krista said as Sam carefully put Dean down on the bed, taking his brother's shoes off and then covering him up. "You can sleep on the couch, if you want," she added.

Sam smiled. "Thanks, but I'd prefer to stay here with him. If he wakes up in the middle of the night, he'll want to know what happened."

"But you don't know what happened to him," the girl pointed out.

Sam looked back at Dean. "No, but I can make better guesses than he can at this point."

"You won't sleep on the floor, will you? It would be really cold."

"I won't sleep," Sam said. "I'll probably just sit all night."

"You won't sleep at all?"

He shook his head. "I wouldn't have no matter where we were. Besides, if you hadn't noticed, the night is almost gone, anyway." He indicated the window, where dawn was beginning to creep through. Krista opened her mouth to say something, then shut it and walked out. to the hall

"I'm going to lie down for a while," she said as she closed the door behind her.

Sam smiled as he watched her leave. Then, he sat down on the bed next to his brother to keep watch and to think about all of the things that could possibly be causing the trouble at Kars Crossing.

Two hours later, Dean groaned in his sleep and his eyes fluttered open. Sam jumped off the bed to avoid the very appearance of a "chick flick moment", so Dean only found his brother standing next to him, leaning over with concern when he finally woke up.

"How are you feeling?" Sam asked quietly.

"That depends on what I was doing and how I got here," Dean mumbled back. "I have a headache and I think I'm going to throw up . . . if I have a hangover, at least tell me I had fun."

Sam grinned. "If you have a hangover, it isn't from drinking."

Dean blinked a few times, still trying to focus. "What happened?"

"What do you remember?"

Closing his eyes, the older Winchester tried to recall the events of the previous night. "Let's see . . . we pulled off on the freeway to get gas," he said slowly, as if pulling the words from the far recesses of his memory. Suddenly, his eyes popped open. "My baby!"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Your precious car is fine, Dean. What else do you remember?"

Dean sighed and pushed himself up on his elbows. "Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch. Nil. I remember paying for gas and then I remember waking up right here." He looked at Sam's frustrated gaze. "Mind telling me what happened?"

"Dean, I don't know what happened."

"What? How can you not know what happened? Did you wake up here, too?"

"No. When we stopped at the gas station, we decided to check out a local haunt. There's this bridge that has somestrange rumors attached to it. Anyway, we went there and you disappeared."

"I disappeared?"

"Yeah, youdisappeared. I searched for you for hours before you turned up here, and Krista called me on your cell phone to tell me you had suddenly appeared on her couch."

Dean sat straight up. "I what?"

"You appeared on this random couch almost four hours after we went to the bridge. This girl came out of the shower and found you unconscious on her couch. She got your cell phone out of your pocket and started dialing the contacts until someone told her to call Sam. I was still out at the Cross, trying to find you in pouring rain."

"Whoa," came the surprised reply.

"Yeah, Dean. Four hours. And you have no memory of any of that time. And I can't explain what happened to you."

"I don't remember even going to this bridge, let alone what might have happened while we were there. What did you hear?"

"That's the thing, Dean. I didn't hear anything. This massive fog screen rolls in and then you were gone. There was no yell, no grunt, not even breathing. And I couldn't see more than an inch in front of my face. I searched for you forfour hours before Krista called to say she'd found you."

"Four hours?" Dean repeated a little nervously. "Four hours of my life that no one can account for?"

"Four whole hours," Sam affirmed. "And I don't know how to piece it back together unless you can remember something that happened."

"I just don't, Sam. I remember getting gas and that's it."

"Are you sure that's ALL you remember?"

Dean closed his eyes one more time, trying to concentrate. "Yeah. I'm sure."

A minute of silence passed as each brother pondered this. Finally, Dean asked, "So what is it?"

Sam looked over, incredulous. "Are you serious? I'm still soaking wet, I've been wandering out in freezing, pouring rain looking for you for hours, I haven't slept, I haven't eaten, I definitely haven't had time to research this, and you think I've got it all figured out?"

Dean blinked, then smiled. "Well, you're the one with the college education. Don't you have it at least narrowed down?"

Rolling his eyes, Sam replied, "Well, I guess I'm pretty sure it's a poltergeist. Krista told me the rumor is that a man murdered his family on that bridge two hundred ago. He's probably haunting the place out of guilt or something."

"So what we really need to do is banish his spirit, then?"

"I hope so, because if it's more complicated than that, we're in trouble."

"Why?"

Sam folded his arms. "Krista told me that someone had already tried salting and burning the old man's remains. We're down to our last option."

Sam brought clothes in from the car to change into, finally willing to leave his brother once assuring himself that Dean was fine. Other than a headache and slight dizziness and nausea when he got up, Dean felt no effects at all from what happened. He whisked himself out of bed and put his shoes on. By the time he was done, Sam was already dressed, dry, and feeling much better. Krista offered to feed them breakfast, but Sam insisted that she had already done enough to help them.

"What are you going to do now?" she asked.

"We're going to try to figure out how to stop the haunting," Sam answered simply.

"You're not going back there, are you?"

"Yeah," Dean said. "Why?"

"Well, the first time, people generally disappear and wind up somewhere else. But the second time they're there . . ." she trailed off.

Sam raised an eyebrow. "The second time . . ." he prompted.

"The second time, they die."


	4. Chapter 4

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Supernatural. I actually don't own much of anything. I'm pathetically poor. Or maybe just pathetic. I suppose it's a matter of opinion.

A thousand thanks to my supporters. Really -- youall rock. Keep them coming!

- - - - - - - - - -

"I can't believe you let her come with us," Sam griped at his brother as they walked from the Impala toward the bridge, weapons, flashlights, and exorcism books in hand.

"She's really very persuasive," Dean said, defending himself.

"No, she isn't. All she did was bat her eyes at you and you agreed."

"Well, she has persuasive eyes, then."

"I'm right here," Krista reminded them.

"So what's the plan?" Sam continued.

"You'll exorcize the poltergeist while I distract it."

"Oh, gee – that's a fabulous plan. You'll either be getting the crap kicked out of you or disappearing and randomly showing up somewhere else a few hours later. And then where will I be?"

"Hey, I'm a good distraction. Just keep reading no matter what."

"I can help," Krista offered, still following them through the trees.

"And what happens if you go down before I'm done? It kills me, too?" Sam went on, still ignoring the girl.

"I won't go down," Dean insisted.

"How can you be so sure? Is it going to be like the airplane demon, with me doing the exorcizing and you screaming your head off in the corner?"

"That was an entirely different situation," the older Winchester snapped.

"Why don't you do the exorcism and I'll be the distraction?"

"Because your Latin is a lot better than mine, college boy."

"I know Latin," Krista said from behind, still trying to get them to acknowledge her as the trio was exiting the trees and reaching the bridge. This comment finally worked; the two in front of her stopped dead.

"You can?" Dean asked.

She shrugged. "Sure. I took four years of it in school. The language may be dying but it's still beautiful."

"Oh, great, a poet," Dean said. "That's helpful."

"But if she can read the exorcism while we're both doing the distracting, it should work out a lot better, right?" Sam said.

Dean turned to Krista. "Don't you dare mess this up, then. It's a lot of responsibility."

Sam rolled his eyes. "She'll be fine. Just let her do her thing."

Taking a collective deep breath, they stepped onto the bridge and waited for the fog to start coming. After five minutes, they got worried. Nothing was happening. Birds were singing and the air was as clear and crisp as could be. No clouds were in the sky. After ten minutes, they were getting impatient. And at fifteen, Dean was grousing again.

"Maybe it only works on dark and stormy nights."

"Yeah, poltergeists love bad weather," Sam snapped back.

"Would you two stop?" Krista interjected. "I don't think you're helping."

The brothers glared at each other before turning away. "Well, start the exorcism," Sam suggested. "I've never found a better way to attract an angry spirit than to try to banish it."

"True," Dean agreed. "Go ahead and start reading."

Krista opened the book they had given her and started reading the Latin words. She understood most of what she was reading, but was paying more attention to her pronunciation than the meaning. She figured the whole outing was a waste of time until suddenly Dean froze.

"Sam," he croaked out, "it's behind me."

"How do you know?" Sam asked. "I can't see anything."

"I can feel it breathing on the back of my neck," Dean snapped. "Now get over here and help me distract it before it turns me into demon food."

"Eloquent," Sam said, his tone light but his manner completely opposite. He stepped forward a few inches and then stopped when he saw a shadow -- nothing more -- behind his brother.

"Keep reading,"he ordered Krista, who had paused to watch what was going on. Nodding, she went back to what she was doing.

Sam grabbed Dean and stepped in front of him just as the demonic spirit hit him with a strong invisible left hook. It knocked the younger Winchester off his feet and into his brother. They both fell to the ground in a heap. Dean rolled away and to his feet in one fluid motion.

"Why did you do that?" Dean shouted in anger.

"She said it kills the second time," Sam responded, taking Dean's offered hand and getting back up. "Pardon me for not really wanting you to die."

They looked around them, watching for any sign of movement. They could see nothing and knew they wouldn't be able to. They were blinded once again, only this time there was no fog.

Without warning, the book Krista was reading from was snatched from her hands and went flying into the air. Dean dove after it, knowing it was their only hope. He wanted to grab the poltergeist, but it was no use. He landed on the grass off the bridge and only a few feet away from the book. Krista was coming toward him to get the book herself when Sam was thrown violently into the side of the bridge, his ribs cracking painfully loudly as he hit and then dropped to the ground. Before he could even react, he was in the air again, his head slamming into the same railing that he had just hit. He went down and stayed down.

Dean was on his feet in an instant, having forgotten about the book in his haste to rescue his brother. Krista was almost off the bridge to pick up the book when Sam's groaning voice came up to her.

"Don't leave the bridge," he mumbled. "We'll have to start all over."

She nodded. "Dean," she pleaded, "Bring me the book. Sam will be fine."

Dean, realizing what he was doing, turned back retrieve the item in question, moving as fast as he could. By the time he got back to the bridge, Sam had dragged himself back to his feet and was clutching the railing miserably, blood running down his head.

"Sam," Dean began, handing the book to Krista, "Get down."

"Why?" his brother snapped irritably. "You think it will be harder for him to get me if I'm laying down?"

"Then get off the bridge entirely."

"And leave you here to be murdered? I think not."

"You're in no condition to–"

Dean was interrupted by a massive physical force shoving him backwards over the railing and into the water below. His back was on fire where he had hit the wood, but he ignored it and clambered back to his feet. He was now freezing cold, too. He jumped up, half-expecting his brother and the girl to be dead. But the situation hadn't changed at all since he went over. Krista looked at him in shock momentarily, then went back to finding her page and reading the exorcism.

As the Latin was being chanted once more, Dean grabbed Sam. "You have to get off this bridge," he snarled.

"I can't," Sam returned. "You'll need help."

Since everything up to this point had done nothing but prove that statementto be completely true, Dean released his brother and stepped back. "Then try not to die."

"Likewise."

Krista continued to read, happy that she was nearing the end of the page. But the poltergeist still had some fight left in him.

And Dean was supposed to die, since it was his second run-in with said spirit.

To the horror of all three people on the bridge, the poltergeist materialized on one end of the bridge. It was a strong man, dressed in clothes far too old for the current time, wielding a very large, very sharp sword. And he didn't look happy.

Grinning morbidly, he charged for Dean.


	5. Chapter 5

DISCLAIMER: It's official: I still don't own Supernatural and I never will. Bugger.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Krista sped up in her reading, trying desperately to finish sooner. Dean didn't react. He knew this was coming and he knew he couldn't avoid it, so he just closed his eyes. But Sam reacted. Sam jumped forward and pushed his brother out of the way, receiving a slash across his right clavicle and shoulder. And he hit the ground, blacking out as he did so.

Dean landed underneath his brother, rolling on top in order to protect Sam. He felt how limp Sam was, and whirled around to face the demon. He had seen the blood and figured Sam was dead. This poltergeist was going to have to pay for that.

The demon was still smiling.

"You're going to die now," it snarled.

"Actually, you picked the wrong family to mess with," Dean hissed, as his anger fueled him. "I'm taking you down."

Dean charged at the poltergeist as the demon charged at him. They met in the middle of the bridge. Surprisingly, Dean's weight and momentum carried him into the spirit and backtoward the edge of the bridge. Taking advantage of his position on top, Dean started throwing punches. He knew that, in the long run, he would lose, because he couldn't possibly counter the strength of a deranged spirit, but he was too upset to care at the moment.

The poltergeist suddenly threw Dean off of him, standing and growling at his prey. His sword came around in a fluid motion, and Dean, who was just starting to rise, caught most of the blow on his leg and collapsed in agony. The demon was on him again in less than a second, swinging his weapon and cursing Dean, who was sprawled on the ground as the blood from his leg seeped onto the ground.

He couldn't get out of the way in time. He knew this in less than a second and therefore didn't try to move. Sam wouldn't be coming to his rescue this time. He closed his eyes and prepared himself for death. Again.

But someone DID come to his rescue, though it wasn't who he thought it would be. Krista gave up on her reading when she had seen what happened and took a dive atthe demon. Surprised by the unexpected assault, the poltergeist stumbled backward. Krista then launched herself at Dean, who was once again slowly and painfully coming to his feet. The two of them tumbled off the bridge. The poltergeist glared at them for a few minutes, stepping toward them. When he got to the edge of the bridge, he stopped, as though an invisible force held him back.

"I guess he only haunts the bridge itself," Dean whispered in awe, grateful to know the spirit was confined.

Then, realizing he couldn't have his original prey, the poltergeist turned to Sam, who still hadn't moved, and scooped up the younger Winchester, vanishing.

"No!" Dean shouted, trying to rise in spite of the pain in his leg.

"It's okay," Krista said calmly. "Sam won't die."

"It's okay?" Dean snapped back, eyes flashing wildly. "That thing took my little brother and you think it's okay?"

"Remember, he took you during your first time here, and now he's taking Sam. But the two of you can't ever come back because now you both have death sentences on your heads."

"Au contraire, my friend," Dean said, an evil grin creeping across his face. "I'm going to kill that thing for hurting my brother."

"You'll die!"

"No, I won't. See, there's only one thing more terrifying than an angry demon, and that is an angry Winchester."

- - - - - - - - - - -

Five angst-filled hours later, Dean had not only had twenty-eight stitches in his leg, but had also scoured the area surrounding Kars Crossing twelve times. He had sent Krista away a while ago; she didn't really understand everything that was going on and wasn't much help, anyway. She spent the majority of the time trying to talk him out of whatever plan he had concocted. He had called Sam's cell phone more times than he could count, without any results. The sound of his own phone ringing in the silence of Kars Crossing shocked him as he wandered through the wooded area near the bridge. He pulled the offending phone out of his pocket and shoved it up to his ear.

"Yeah?" he said absent-mindedly.

"Dean?" came a shaky voice.

"Sam? Where are you?" Dean asked quickly.

"I'm in the hospital, Dean. This nice old lady and her husband brought me here about an hour ago. They said I randomly showed up at their house."

"An hour? Could you not possibly have let me know where you were an hour ago?" Dean growled, ignoring the slurring in his brother's voice.

"Not really, Dean. They had me drugged an hour ago. I'm just waking up."

"Oh. Are you okay?"

"I think so. They say I had almost forty stitches and that I have a concussion, but I can't feel anything because of this glorious medication."

"So you wound up on this couple's couch?"

"Actually, they say I showed up in their bathtub, but that's another story. Dean, I don't know what happened."

"But that's normal, right? I mean, I didn't, either. What's the last thing you remember?"

"Well," Sam began slowly, "I remember us driving out there with Krista, though I still can't imagine why you let her come along. And then I woke up here. Did anything happen?"

"Not really," Dean grumbled sarcastically. "Nothing important, anyway. We just didn't exorcize the dead guy, is all."

"Are you okay? If I ended up like this, you had to be just as bad."

"I'm all right," Dean insisted. "Listen, I'll be to the hospital in about another hour to get you and we'll head to California."

Sam didn't see through this ploy for a second. He knew what his brother intended to do and couldn't let it happen.

"Dean, you can't take this guy on by yourself. Apparently, we couldn't even handle it when there were three of us! Come get me and we'll do it together."

"No can do, bro," Dean replied. "See, I have to exact revenge on him for what he did to us. Besides, now that I know what I'm up against, I'll be okay. Catch you later." And he hung up, ignoring Sam's arguments. He did, after all, have work to do.

This nasty poltergeist was about to feel the wrath of Dean Winchester on the warpath.


	6. Chapter 6

DISCLAIMER: Same old; I don't own Supernatural and if I did I wouldn't be writing this and posting it here.

NOTE: This chapter is really slow and boring and pretty pathetic because I seem to have writer's block. I'm sorry in advance. I promise it will get better!

- - - - - - - - - -

From the moment that Sam hung up his phone after talking with his brother, he knew there was a big problem. He was stuck in a hospital and Dean was going to attempt to take out the poltergeist on his own. Not good.

He had to help Dean out. But without a car or even much physical strength, he was at a loss. He finally turned to someone he could only hope would be willing to do him a favor. He called the old woman whose house he had turned up in. It was late, but she still answered on the third ring.

"Hello," he responded to her greeting. "This is Sam Winchester. I sort of showed up at your house earlier?"

"Oh, yes," she said, her voice shaky with age. "I remember you. A nice young man like you shouldn't have been playing around at that haunted bridge."

"About that haunted bridge," Sam went on. "I have a friend who wanted to go over there tonight on a dare. I was hoping you might be able to stop him."

"I don't ever want to go there, young man," she practically growled.

"I understand. I was hoping you could call the police or something."

"Your friend would be arrested if I did that."

Sam took a deep breath. "I understand. I just don't think he should be out there by himself. And I just can't convince myself to be the one to turn him in."

There was a prolonged silence on the other end of the phone. Finally, the woman responded, "I'll tell the police I thought I saw something when driving by a little bit ago. You'll have to bail him out of jail yourself."

"I will," Sam said with relief. "Thank you so much."

"Take care of yourself, sonny," she said as she hung up.

Naturally, Sam felt a great deal of guilt at what he'd done. However, it was in Dean's best interest that he be arrested until they could take on the ghost together. In the long run, it was just better this way. He only hoped Dean would be able to forgive him eventually.

- - - - - - - - - -

Dean's eyes positively oozed anger and hatred as he sat in the small cell the sheriff had thrown him in. He was told he would get his one phone call at a more reasonable hour, some time the next morning. He would spend the night contemplating his dumb luck.

Or was it?

Sam had known he was going to the bridge. His little brother probably would have done almost anything to prevent him from getting himself hurt.

But this was a little excessive, even for Sam. Besides, the caller had been an older woman.

At any rate, he had been found at the bridge, with a sword in one hand and a gun in the other. He'd been angry and he definitely hadn't been thinking clearly. The arresting officer, who also happened to be the sheriff, told him to take the night and cool off, assuming this was some sort of childish prank. But Dean wasn't amused.

He was going to get off easy. These people in Utah were pretty gullible. He wasn't even going to face charges. He couldn't fathom why; he just knew he wouldn't. Apparently, the woman who had called the police had been more concerned with the welfare of the man she had supposedly seen there than with the fact that he was breaking the law, so the cops were just making sure he didn't want to go back.

But he would.

Just as the police had broken into the clearing, he had seen the poltergeist materialize again. The man, with all of his weapons, had shown up on one end of the bridge and looked straight into the eyes of a very incensed Dean Winchester. Then, he had spoken four little words that had ensured the fact that Dean would kill him.

"Your brother is mine."

And in that instance, all reasonable thought was gone. One of the two of them would have to die.

At that moment, Dean realized that his brother had been taken to the hospital by an older couple.

Sam HAD gotten him thrown in jail. That punk had better have a plan.

- - - - - - - - -

Two hours later, Dean's eyes flew open. He hadn't realized he fell asleep. He was pretty sure he was so livid that he wouldn't have been able to sleep. Nevertheless, something had just awakened him. He got up and walked to the bars at the front of his cell.

He couldn't see anything, but he could hear the slight sounds of someone walking. And suddenly, a tall, dark figure appeared in front of him. He jumped backward involuntarily.

"Dean?" a familiar voice whispered.

"Sam?" Dean asked, stepping forward again as he saw his brother come to the door of the cell. "Aren't you supposed to be in the hospital?"

"Maybe, but you definitely are NOT supposed to be in jail, so I'm getting you out."

"That's fantastic Sammy," Dean griped, raising his voice.

"Sshhh," Sam interrupted. "I drugged the guard but he should be waking up any minute. I'd rather not have him wake to us arguing while I'm breaking you out." He paused. "And it's Sam."

"Did you at least bring a paperclip with which to pick the lock?" Dean asked in an antagonizing tone.

Sam held up a ring of keys. "What do you think I wanted to drug the guard for?"

In spite of the situation, Dean smiled. "That's my brother."

The younger Winchester popped the door open and motioned for Dean to follow him. "Let's go, and please be quiet," he said.

"What's your plan then? Where to?"

Sam snorted. "Where to? Are you kidding me? We're going to kill that thing."

"Tonight?"

"Yes, tonight. I'm sore and angry and I have a feeling you're sore and angry and we'll both feel better if we don't have a supernatural death sentence hanging over our heads."

"Do you have a plan? We still have to exorcize it."

"I know, Dean. I may have hit my head, but I don't have brain damage."

"Then what are we going to do besides try to beat the crap out of it?"

Sam grinned mischievously. "Well, YOU are going to try to beat the crap out of it. I am going to do the exorcizing."

By now the two of them were out of the jail. Sam had dropped of the keys where he had gotten them and they were quickly walking away.

"Wasn't that my original plan in the first place?" Dean asked, scratching his head.

"Of course not. Your original plan had a lot of holes in it and somehow ended up involving a girl who took high school Latin. That was just a bad idea. In my plan, we revert back to how we work best."

"And how is that?"

"Just the two of us. You said it yourself once – we make a great team."

Dean smiled, and then frowned at Sam's next statement: "Just try not to cower in a corner and scream like a girl this time, okay?"

He glared at his brother's retreating back before following. He'd get back at Sam right after destroying the evil spirit that was trying to murder them both.


	7. Chapter 7

DISCLAIMER: Supernatural and the wonderful people in it are currently owned by someone other than me. They're the ones making money off of it, not me.

NOTE: I have to thank my reviewers. Your comments are greatly appreciated and your support is so fantastic. Oh, and thanks for reading in spite of the writer's block I had which put a damper on the last chapter. You're the best!

- - - - - - - - - -

"How's the shoulder?" Dean asked as Sam shifted in the car uncomfortably.

"Oh, fabulous," the younger Winchester replied sarcastically. "It hasn't felt this good since the last time an evil spirit tried to impale me on an archaic weapon."

"I'm guessing from the size of the words you're using that you are not in the best of moods."

"How'd you guess?"

"Really, Sammy, I'M the one that should be mad. You got me arrested."

"I also got you out. Besides, I saved your life, too. You don't think clearly when you're angry. And it's Sam."

"Whatever," Dean shrugged. "The point is that it's me and not you who should be angry."

"I'm not angry; I'm frustrated, and you can't say I don't deserve to be." He sighed. "How's the leg?"

Dean glanced over. "How did you know about that?"

"Come on, Dean, I'm your brother, and I'm not an idiot. You've been favoring that leg since I got out of the hospital. I can only imagine what happened. Did he slice you?"

"Yeah," Dean said, giving up pretenses of trying to hide his injury. "Twenty-eight stitches. No big deal."

Sam snorted. "No big deal, huh? Most people think a paper cut is no big deal, and you're dismissing a sword cut. I'll never understand that. Are you even supposed to be walking on it yet?"

"Do I look like I care?"

Not answering, Sam shook his head and looked out the passenger window.

"Besides," Dean said after a moment, "Are you supposed to be wandering around and using your arm?"

Sam looked over sharply, then grinned. "Touche," he said.

They arrived at Kars Crossing in just a few minutes, both checking for cops before exiting the car. They were battered already, but Dean had been right about one thing earlier – an angry Winchester was scarier than a poltergeist. And there were now TWO angry Winchesters. They had no qualms about their situation. Sam carried the exorcism ritual and a flashlight in his left hand, and Dean hobbled along with a sword and gun.

And just then, it started to rain.

Sam looked up. "Figures," he said, without slowing. "At least we know we won't have to deal with that once we're on the bridge."

"But there will be fog," Dean reminded him.

"That's what the light is for. Just watch for him. He may not materialize this time."

Dean stopped. "Are YOU giving ME advice about the job?"

Sam continued a few more steps, then turned around. "Don't get offended. I'm just trying to help."

"Well, you concentrate on reading Latin, and I'll do the dirty work. That's how we work best."

Sam shook his head but refrained from answering as they got to the bridge. They stood silently for a few minutes, waiting for the rain to stop like it had earlier. It didn't. However, the fog came in, as expected.

"Great," Dean grumbled. "I hate rain, and I hate battling spirits that have already tried to kill me twice. But I hate the two combined even more."

"See anything?" Sam asked.

"Believe me, I'd let you know if I did."

They quit speaking as they waited for their quarry. Sam was ready to give up when Dean suddenly whispered, "Start reading."

Without hesitation, Sam jerked the book open and switched on the flashlight. The fog was very thick, but if he held the book about three inches from his face, he could still read it. The Latin words came quickly out of his mouth as he heard his brother grunt. Sam didn't even look up, knowing what was happening. It would be over faster if he could just get through the ritual.

Dean hit the railing on the bridge hard. He coughed and fell to the ground instinctively as the poltergeist tried to hit his head. He rolled out of the way and got shakily back to his feet. He still couldn't see anything.

The fog started to lift at that moment. The poltergeist was materializing again, and Dean's eyes widened as he saw the sword once more. The blade looked sharper than before, and it was dripping blood. He could only assume that the blood belonged to him and to Sam. That made him angry. He charged the demon.

The poltergeist sidestepped Dean and shoved him to the floor, going toward Sam in order to stop the ritual from going on. Before he could warn his brother, Dean saw Sam get hauled into the air and thrown at the ground. Thankfully, the younger Winchester thought clearly enough to keep his strong hold on the book. His Latin merely slowed down as he hit but he didn't stop. Dean took this time to gather himself up and go for another attack. The poltergeist whirled as he hit, taking the surprisingly corporeal form with him to the ground. His leg screamed at him as he got to his feet once more.

But the spirit was faster, and Dean found himself hitting the wooden bridge before he could even register it. He shook his head to clear it, and found the evil spirit standing over him, sword raised above his neck. He was about to be beheaded, and there wasn't anywhere for him to go. He swallowed in terror as the sword started to come down.

But Sam finally finished the exorcism just as the heavy blade was coming down on top of Dean's throat. Before he could finish his stroke, the poltergeist screamed in pain and started on fire. He stumbled backward, off the bridge, before falling down in a pile of ashes. Dean took a few deep breaths, realizing how close he had come to dying, and then turned to Sam.

"Are you okay?" Dean asked, rushing to his brother's side. Blood was seeping onto Sam's shoulder. "Did he get you again? I didn't think he got you with the sword."

"He didn't," came the reply. "But I think I tore open my stitches."

"We have to get you to the hospital, little brother. They'll have to sew it up again."

"Just sew it up yourself and we'll be good," Sam insisted.

"The way I see it," Dean answered, trying to get himself and his brother to their feet, "is that I have to go there anyway because you're in no condition to sew up my leg."

"Did you rip open the stitches on that?"

Dean gave his signature grin. "Hey, it seemed like the going thing at the moment. After all, you ripped yours open."

"Let's head, then," Sam said. "The sooner we get out of this miserable rain, the better."

They stumbled to the car together, and drove to the hospital. They were separated immediately. Dean's leg was finished first, and he moved to the waiting room to rest while the doctor did Sam's stitches. He was surprised by a familiar voice.

"Are you two okay?" Krista asked.

"What are you doing here?"

"What a way to greet a friend," she said with a smile. "Actually, I heard from a friend here that there were these two boys in to get their stitches fixed, and I figured it was you. I just thought I'd come by to see how you two were doing."

"Well, we got it," Dean said.

"Really?" Krista was totally amazed. "How?"

"Very carefully," came the cryptic response. "The point is that we got it."

"How's Sam?"

"I think he's fine. They should be done with him in no time at all."

Krista nodded. "I'll go get you coffee. You look like you could use it." And she walked away.

Dean sat in silence for a few minutes after she left, before being rudely startled by a man standing in front of them. He had failed to notice him walk up.

"Dean?" the man said softly.

Dean looked up instantly, his eyes widening. "Dad?"

He stood to receive the uncharacteristic embrace from his father.

"How did you know to come here, Dad?" Dean asked after pulling away.

"That's not important, son. How is Sam recovering?"

Dean opened his mouth to answer, then closed it as a realization hit him like a ton of bricks. "You've been following us," he accused.

"Dean, I couldn't talk to you –"

"You've been following us and watching us get hurt and you did nothing!"

"Dean, please, just hear me out –"

But Dean didn't want to listen anymore. He was cold and angry. "I left you like 20 messages which you didn't answer and the whole time you were right there?"

"Look, Dean –"

"We could have DIED, Dad, and now you show up to make sure Sam's okay? After all the dirty work is over and we're sitting in the hospital?"

"You were fine."

"You didn't know that we were! You didn't even TRY to help us!"

"Dean —"

"No, Dad, don't try to explain. I can't take it right now. Just crawl back into your hole."

John Winchester looked shocked. "What?"

Dean was completely calm now, his face a mask for the emotions that crowded through him. "We've been doing okay without you. You ignored our pleas for help when we wanted – needed – you to come, and here you are, expecting to be received with open arms after abandoning us? I think not."

"Dean –"

"Sam will be fine, Dad. I'm watching his back and he's watching mine. And we're finding friends along the way who will help us. So if all you're planning to do is watch us from the shadows, you can just walk away."

Someone cleared their throat from the hallway in front of them. Both men turned to see Sam, half-dressed and standing very gingerly in front of them. A large bandage covered the right half of his head and his shirt was unbuttoned to reveal white bandages covering his midsection and shoulder. No one said anything.

A nurse, who had walked in right before Sam, looked around nervously. "Are you supposed to be walking around, Mr. Winchester?" she asked with a smile, trying to lighten the mood.

"No," Sam said simply, without taking his eyes off his brother and father.

Dean looked at his brother, studying his face and his reactions. Sam, too, was holding his emotions in. Dean could only pray that his brother would back him up and not be angry that he was dismissing their father after such a long search. A search that had led ultimately to Sam almost dying a good four times, his girlfriend being murdered, and him skipping out on his law school interview – the things he'd wanted for his future. But he wouldn't try to influence Sam in any way. He waited out the others.

After all, it wasn't Sam, but Dean that had really wanted to find their dad. Sam was slightly surprised at his brother's angry reaction. He figured it was just the exhaustion talking, but he was still going to be behind Dean all the way.

John Winchester was the first to break the silence after that. "Sam, are you –"

"I'm fine, Dad," Sam snapped.

"But you –"

"Do you even care?" the younger son asked, the words ripping out of him like knives. "You've been watching us and following us all over the country for who knows what purpose and watching us get hurt and you haven't tried to step in?"

John closed his mouth and eyed his sons. They had every right to be angry at him, but he was sure they would understand if they would only listen to his reasoning. However, neither was in any mood to listen to him right now, so he backed out.

"Boys, if you ever need me –"

Dean snorted. "Yeah, right."

John nodded in defeat and shuffled away.

Sam and Dean both watched him go, then looked at each other. Sam opened his mouth, but Dean spoke first.

"Let's not have a moment, especially in such a public place, okay?"

Sam smiled in spite of himself. "Let's just go. We're late for California."

"Yeah, we are."

Krista, who had just returned with coffee, spoke up. "You can't just leave right now! Look at you – you're the walking dead! If I were one of the people you're trying to help, I'd mistake you for what you're hunting!"

"Well, that was a fantastic compliment," Dean said.

"It wasn't meant to be. I just think you should rest for a while."

Sam shrugged and grimaced with the movement. Dean watched his brother and sighed. "We'll take a day off, then, but no more than that."

Sam grinned. "Caught by the girl, just like usual. It's nice to know nothing changed since I was gone."

Dean rolled his eyes, and the two brothers wandered back out to Dean's car.

"So where should we take our break?" Sam asked as they got in.

The older Winchester his grin. "I hear Vegas is nice this time of year, and it's on the way to California."

"Vegas?" Sam asked skeptically. "You're just going tocheat people out of their money and hit on everything female in the area."

"Hey, don't forget that you got me thrown in jail, and you still owe me for that."

"Fine. But we're only staying for a day," Sam said with a smile. "Don't get too excited."

And with that, the Impala roared to life, speeding toward the western coast.

THE END (I think . . .)

- - - - - - - - - - -

NOTE: Okay, I have to make a few comments about the ending. I really don't think Dean and Sam would be that angry about their father actually showing his face, but I think his behavior is atrocious and I hate the way he's just leaving them to get hurt and face these horrible things by themselves. Besides, I figured both brothers would probably have some pent-up anger if they realized their dad had been watching them. I had to get it off my chest. Anyway, those are my excuses for the ending. I'd still love to hear comments about it! And thanks again for everyone who reviewed (and even those of you who read but didn't review).


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